Past the Point of Rescue
by CaroH
Summary: Aramis makes a mistake and it tears the brotherhood apart.
1. Chapter 1

This story contains spoilers for the last two episodes of the season.

**Past the Point of Rescue**

**Chapter One**

The courtiers gathered, filled with a morbid curiosity. It wasn't often that one of the King's chosen fell from grace so spectacularly. Their pampered, empty lives would be for a moment filled with drama which would fuel the gossip at the never ending round of soirees. The woman stared longingly at the handsome Musketeer while the men speculated quietly about his likely fate.

Aramis waited silently while the damning evidence against him drew to a close. What hurt the most was that the witness was one of his closest friends. Athos hadn't looked at him during the questioning. Porthos and d'Artagnan had subtly distanced themselves as the proceedings branded him a deserter. He didn't care what anyone else thought; it was these men, his brothers that he had betrayed by his actions.

He'd already been stripped of his weapons and there was no doubt what would happen next. The occupants of the throne room seemed to give a collective sigh when Athos finished. Aramis stole a glance at the Queen. Her hand rested on the increasing swell of her belly where their child grew inside her. He had no doubt of the baby's parentage. Now his vow to protect their son with his life lay in tatters around him and he alone must shoulder the blame for that. He wasn't deluded enough to think that Anne loved him. She had taken him to her bed because she felt sorry for him after the death of the girl he'd once been fated to marry. He thought there might be affection in her heart and, on his side, a hopeless adoration.

"The Musketeer, Aramis, will kneel before us." The King's voice echoed around the room.

If the Queen was carefully expressionless, the King was making no effort to hide his feelings. Arrogant and unpredictable, this touched upon his safety and inbred sense of entitlement.

Aramis knelt refusing to bow his head. He could tell that his direct gaze was disconcerting for Louis but what greater punishment could the King impose for his lack of respect. The air had become stifling causing beads of sweat to form on his brow. Suddenly ashamed, he let his head droop.

Before Louis could speak Queen Anne leant over to whisper to him. When the King looked at Aramis again it was with less petulance on his face. "We find you guilty of dereliction of duty. The punishment is death. However, the Queen is merciful and has reminded me of your bravery in saving her from the assassins who sought her life. You are stripped of your commission and banished from the Court."

"I'd rather die," Aramis said.

"Don't be a fool," Athos hissed. He rested a firm hand on Aramis' shoulder, ensuring that he stayed on his knees.

"Captain Treville, remove him from our sight." Louis stood and held out his hand to Anne. "Come, my dear, you shouldn't overtire yourself."

Aramis remained where he was until the King and Queen had left. Soon the only people in the room were his former colleagues, Cardinal Richelieu and two of his Red Guard.

"I warned you about these men," Richelieu said, not bothering to hide his satisfaction or his sneer. His hatred of them could be traced back to the day they'd proved his complicity in the attempt to kill the Queen.

Aramis scowled. He had a longer history with Richelieu dating back to his dalliance with Adele. "Be very careful, Cardinal. I don't have anything to lose now."

"Oh, I think you do." Richelieu moved closer and lowered his voice. "I see how the Queen looks at you. It would be a great shame if the King were to doubt the paternity of her child."

Aramis sucked in a sharp breath. "Do that and you'll have civil war. That's not good for the country you claim to love so much."

"I doubt if anyone would rise up if he were to put her aside," Richelieu said complacently. "Particularly if it was due to her adultery. The peasants would demand her head for betraying him. Say one word about me and I'll make sure the King disowns her and the bastard she's carrying." He smiled coldly and left the Musketeers alone.

"What was that about?" Treville asked.

"Nothing. Let's get this over with." Aramis unbuckled the rerebrace on his right arm. For more years than he could remember it had been his most prized possession. It was the mark of a Musketeer and the highest honour a man could achieve. After handing it to Treville he untied the sky blue cape and dropped it at the Captain's feet. He swept a cold stare around his former friends and colleagues. "All for one," he said bitterly, "and one for all." He gave an ironic bow and walked away.

TMTMTM

"Why would he do it?" D'Artagnan asked, bewildered. They'd returned to the garrison which seemed strangely quiet and empty without their friend. "Why would Aramis leave the King unprotected?"

"I don't know," Athos replied. In truth he had his suspicions. He'd watched his friend becoming withdrawn and distant since the news of the Queen's pregnancy. It was almost certain that she was carrying Aramis' child. After so many years of marriage without an heir it was unlikely that the King had successfully impregnated her so soon after her illicit night with the man honour bound to protect her.

Athos couldn't find it in his heart to blame either of them. Something had happened at the convent to make Aramis reckless. Perhaps they'd believed that they were going to die although Athos doubted that. There was more to the story. Whatever it was would most likely never be known.

"You could have covered for him," d'Artagnan accused hotly. "That's what friends do."

"I tried. Treville became suspicious and Aramis admitted leaving his post to spend the night with one of the Queen's ladies in waiting." It had occurred to him that his friend might have been with the Queen although, when challenged in private, Aramis had vehemently denied that.

"Something isn't right," Porthos said. "He's been a soldier longer than any of us. He wouldn't risk his life for some woman who means nothing to him. And, he wouldn't break his oath to the King."

"We have to find him," d'Artagnan said. "Talk to him and find out what really happened."

"We know what happened."

"I don't believe that, Athos." D'Artagnan with his strong sense of honour couldn't accept that one of the finest men he knew could have compromised the King's safety for a woman.

"D'Artagnan's right. Why're you so quick to condemn him?"

Athos glared at his comrade, anger and guilt warring within him. "He condemned himself and was lucky to walk away with his life."

"You might be ready to abandon him," d'Artagnan said angrily. "We're not. I'm going to track him down. Are you coming?"

"Yes," Porthos said before looking accusingly at Athos. "What about you?"

Athos sighed wearily. What he wanted was to crawl into a bottle and drink himself senseless. "Of course. Whatever you might think, he's still my friend."

TMTMTM

They found Aramis in one of the worst taverns in Paris. He looked up at them blearily. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice slurring thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol he'd consumed.

"For you to stop drinking," Athos said.

Aramis sneered. "Fine words from a drunk."

"Stop it Aramis," Porthos said. "We're here to help."

"Athos has 'helped' enough. Go away and leave me alone." He picked up the wine bottle from the table and held it over his glass. Only a couple of drops fell. He waved the empty bottle in the direction of one of the serving girls. "Another," he said.

Athos put out his hand to stop the girl. "He's had enough."

"Still interfering?" Aramis asked. "Why don't you just keep your mouth shut?"

"We're not leaving." D'Artagnan sat on one side of Aramis with Porthos on the other. If he wanted to escape he'd have to go through them. "Tell us what really happened and we'll ask Treville to petition the King on your behalf."

"I had an itch and Veronique was willing to scratch it," Aramis said crudely. "The King was never in any danger and I'd have been back at my post in time if Athos hadn't arrived early."

"I didn't tell Treville," Athos said. "You're the one who made him suspicious by the way you were acting. When he asked me if I knew what was wrong I…"

"You gave me up."

"Not willingly."

"It doesn't matter anymore. I've lost my commission, my home and my family. There's nothing left."

"We're not going to abandon you," d'Artagnan said.

"What will you do?" Porthos asked.

"I've only ever made my living with the sword. I'm sure someone will pay me to look after them."

"Not after today," Athos said. "No-one will hire a man who abandoned the King."

"Athos!" d'Artagnan said, his anger with the older man rising uncontrollably.

"It's the truth and Aramis knows it."

"You're an arrogant bastard." Aramis rose unsteadily to his feet and lunged across the table. He grabbed the front of Athos' jacket, drew back his right arm and threw a punch directly at his former friend's face.

Athos countered the move with his arm, knocking Aramis off-balance to sprawl across the table. "Stay down."

The urge to violence wouldn't be denied and it cut through the effects of the alcohol like a bucket of cold water. Aramis scrambled across the table and threw his full body weight behind another blow. Athos caught his wrist and used his leverage to spin Aramis around and into collision with a wall.

"That's enough." Porthos stepped between the two protagonists, forcing Athos to retreat.

D'Artagnan caught Aramis by the arms and hauled him back to the table. "Sit down. This isn't helping anyone."

Aramis wiped a smear of blood from his cheek and bared his teeth. "Stay and I'll kill you." His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, the threat very real.

"Let's go," Porthos said. "Where are you staying?" He asked Aramis.

"Here." Aramis waved an arm vaguely around the tavern.

"We'll see you tomorrow when you've sobered up and are ready to listen to reason." With a last concerned look at his friend he ushered Athos and d'Artagnan away.

Tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Past the Point of Rescue**

**Chapter Two**

The sour smell of spilt wine permeated Athos' room. Discovering that his wife was still alive hadn't led to any lessening of his turbulent emotions; it had simply caused him to increase his drinking. He was fighting a losing battle against the undeniable truth that he still loved her despite everything that she had done. Milady had been right when she said neither of them would find peace until they were both dead.

He put on his jacket and buckled his sword belt, adjusting it to take account of the weight of his pistol. After checking that his knife was secure in its sheath behind his back and positioning his hat to shield his sensitive eyes from the sunlight he was ready to face the day. He was less sanguine about seeing his friends. Their palpable dislike was harder to bear than he'd expected. At times he hated Aramis for putting him in this position. Mostly, though, he missed the easy camaraderie the four of them had shared.

When he stepped into the yard and saw no lessening of the disgust on the faces of Porthos and d'Artagnan he knew that he would have to work very hard to regain their trust. They weren't the only Musketeers to look at him unfavourably. The half-dozen soldiers going about their business made a great show of ignoring him. He was undoubtedly a pariah in their eyes, and in his own.

He hid his sadness under a bland expression, meeting the hostile glares from two of the men he regarded as his closest friends. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"We thought you weren't going to show," Porthos said.

"We've been waiting for the last half hour," d'Artagnan added accusingly.

"Sorry." He wasn't going to explain that he'd been awake for most of the night with a couple of bottles of wine for company. He'd become adept at hiding the evidence of a vicious hangover so they would garner no clues from his demeanor. He headed for the gate, sure that the other two would follow.

"Where do you three think you're going?"

Athos halted when he heard Treville's voice. He took a couple of deep breaths to force down his nausea before he turned to face the Captain. "To find Aramis."

"He's no longer your concern. You have a job to do. You're all wanted at the Palace."

"Aramis needs our support," Porthos said.

"Then he'll have to wait. You're on guard duty today. The King is receiving an envoy from the Spanish Court and you know how well that usually goes."

In Athos' experience it normally ended with Louis acting like a spoilt child, not that there was anything unusual about that. "Can't you give the assignment to someone else?" he asked.

"Are you refusing a direct order?"

"No, Captain. None of us would be foolish enough to do that."

"Glad to hear it. The Regiment is already suffering from the actions of your friend. You are to stay with the King for the rest of the day. There will be a banquet tonight and I want you there to keep an eye on the Spanish contingent. The King of Spain might be Queen Anne's brother but he loves to cause mischief."

"What about Aramis?" d'Artagnan asked.

"What about him? He's no longer a Musketeer and, if he's got any sense, he'll leave Paris. You can look for him once your tour of duty is over in three days."

"Three days, Captain? Is there some reason you want to keep us away from Aramis?" Athos asked.

"That's a ridiculous question. You shouldn't be associating with him, though" Treville said. "It's bad for the reputation of the Regiment. Now, get out of here. It doesn't do to keep the King waiting."

Athos had a sixth sense when it came to situations that weren't as they seemed and he felt that something wasn't right. However, there was nothing he could do. They were sworn to serve and protect Louis and, if their services were required, there was no possible way to disobey.

"You heard the Captain," Athos said. "We have a job to do."

"You didn't try very hard to persuade him to change his orders," d'Artagnan said hotly once Treville had returned to his office.

"A good soldier follows his orders," Athos replied. "You are new and don't understand yet how it works. We have been summoned and have no choice other than to obey or risk facing a court martial. If we all find ourselves out on the street we won't be able to help Aramis."

"He's right, d'Artagnan," Porthos said. "I don't like it either but we have to go."

While they waited for their horses to be saddled Athos silently brooded on the possible reasons behind this move to make it hard for them to find time to see their friend. His gut told him that there was something wrong and he was never going to ignore that feeling.

TMTMTM

For two days Aramis waited for his former colleagues to turn up again. He spent most of the time in the tavern, flirting with the serving girls and drinking some of the worst ale he'd ever encountered. As the hours passed with painful slowness his mood became darker. He was left alone although he'd noticed a couple of men eying him speculatively. He'd met their gazes boldly causing them to back away from any confrontation.

He committed them to memory out of habit although they had few distinguishing characteristics. The younger of the two was a few inches taller than his companion. Both had long straggly brown hair. The older had blue eyes and a slight squint. They looked to be in reasonably good physical shape and Aramis assumed they had been sizing him up as a potential target for a robbery.

On the third day he realised that he was going to have to find work soon. The rent for the flea-infested room and the cost of his food and drink were steadily depleting his meagre supply of coin. The options were severely limited for a man whose talent was killing. He toyed briefly with the idea of approaching the Cardinal but couldn't imagine being a member of the Red Guard. As Richelieu hated him anyway it would just be another humiliating experience.

Most of the noblemen at Court had a small contingent of guards. Other than that he could become a mercenary but that meant finding a war at a time when France was not actively involved in any of the conflicts presently ravaging many of the other Kingdoms. The seemingly never-ending religious wars were centred on Germany and the Baltic States and Aramis couldn't conceive of leaving his homeland to fight and die in foreign hostilities.

Setting aside his pride he went from one great house to another looking for work. As soon as he gave his name he saw the same supercilious sneer appear on the faces of the men in charge. News of his disgrace had spread quickly throughout the city and, after the seventh door had been slammed in his face, he was forced to accept that his time in Paris was at an end.

For the last couple of hours he'd been conscious of the fact that he was being followed. He gave no outward sign that he'd noticed although he managed to glimpse their faces, recognising them as the men from the tavern. He deliberately made his way to one of the markets and mingled with the crowd. When he as sure that he was temporarily out of sight of those stalking him he ducked down an alley. He stood in the shadows and waited for them to pass. When he edged to the top of the narrow street he saw them looking for him. It seemed unlikely that common criminals would bother to follow him in daylight. Such nefarious activities normally took place well after dark. As he continued to watch them he noticed they moved more like soldiers despite the fact that their clothes were ragged and unwashed.

His curiosity was stronger than the small voice in his mind telling him to run in the opposite direction. He followed them, moving easily from one place of concealment to another. He watched from across the street as they entered a warehouse close to the docks. It was an unsavoury area, notoriously inhabited by thieves and cutthroats so he kept his hand close to the hilt of his sword. He took a couple of steps out into the street before a savage blow to the back of his head sent him into oblivion.

Tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Past the Point of Rescue**

**Chapter Three**

Waking in a strange bed was not a novel experience for Aramis. However, having his brow wiped with a cool cloth by a beautiful stranger while a drum banged with unnecessary enthusiasm in his head was certainly unusual. From his position, lying on his side, he had an unencumbered view of the young woman who was tending to him.

Light brown hair was elegantly styled with wispy curls framing her face. Her unfathomable grey eyes were fixed upon him with unsettling intensity and her perfectly formed mouth was upturned in a smile. She was modestly clad in emerald green satin and lace although he had the impression that she was not as conformist as she appeared.

He was lying on a soft feather mattress and covered in red silk sheets which told him more about his hostess. Curtains drawn across a large window muted the daylight for which he was thankful. Water from the cloth ran down his face and soaked into the pillow.

He had no memory of the events leading up to this moment. His last recollection was of following the two men he had suspected of spying on him. "Where am I?" he asked hoarsely.

Her expression turned mischievous. "In my bed. I would offer to join you but I doubt if you feel well enough. How is your head?"

His eyes widened at her boldness and he felt the first stirrings of desire. Those feelings were quickly dampened by his unremitting headache. He raised his hand and found a bandage tied around his head. "What happened?"

She held a glass of water to his mouth so that he could drink. "You were attacked. Fortunately I was passing in my coach and my driver saw you. I couldn't leave you there to be robbed or murdered so I brought you here."

Aramis doubted the truth of that story. No well-born woman would have reason to be passing through that area of Paris. "May I ask the name of my saviour?" he asked.

"Vivian."

He noted her failure to provide a title or surname. "I am Aramis and I'm deeply in your debt."

"I am sure we will find a way for you to repay that debt once you recover from your injury. I have some social calls to make so will leave you to sleep."

"You're very kind. Could I ask for one more favour?"

"Of course."

"I would like to send word to my friends at the Musketeer's garrison. Perhaps a message could be given to Athos telling him where I am." In addition to the mystery of her name it hadn't escaped his notice that she hadn't volunteered his location.

"I will see to it."

"You are gracious and beautiful, Mademoiselle Vivian."

A strange look crossed her face. "It is Madame although you don't need to worry about my husband. He is away."

"All the better." Aramis yawned. The pain was making him feel very tired and he was having increasing trouble focussing. "Forgive me. I will be better company when next you see me." He was only vaguely aware of her leaving the room as he spiralled down into a deep sleep.

TMTMTM

After three gruelling days of standing on guard duty Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan finally arrived back at the garrison.

"We'll have something to eat and then find Aramis," Athos said. The relationship between him and his companions was no more cordial than it had been immediately after Aramis had been convicted. Despite that they still deferred to him as their leader.

Treville came out of his office and caught sight of them in the yard. "I need to see you three."

"What now?" d'Artagnan asked rhetorically. "He'd better not have another job for us to do."

They climbed the stairs and entered Treville's office. He looked perturbed as he walked over to stand behind his desk.

"Have you heard from Aramis?" he asked abruptly.

"No," Athos said frowning at the tone. "We've been on duty at the Palace. There hasn't been time to seek him out. Is there a problem, Captain?"

"There might be."

"Would you like to explain it to us?" Athos asked. The uneasy feeling that had lingered for days was starting to gain strength.

Treville chewed his bottom lip before replying. "He's disappeared."

"How do you know that?" Porthos asked. "He isn't a Musketeer. Why would you be worried about where he is?"

"Because there's something he hasn't told us," d'Artagnan said.

"Is d'Artagnan right?" Athos asked. "Why don't you tell us what's going on."

"I had two men watching him. He must have spotted them because he gave them the slip and now they can't find him."

"I'm afraid I'm confused," Athos said. "Why would you have men watching Aramis? You made it quite clear that he was no longer our concern."

"What kind of trouble is he in?" Porthos asked.

"He could be in peril of his life." Treville sat heavily. "Three weeks ago we received word from one of our spies in England that there was a plot to assassinate the Queen. There is a Protestant faction in that country that wants to destabilise France and killing her before she can deliver an heir is a good way to throw the country into turmoil."

"They'd kill a pregnant woman?" d'Artagnan asked horrified.

"Who else knows about this?" Athos asked.

"Only the King and Queen…and Aramis."

The muscles in Athos' stomach clenched unpleasantly and his temper began to rise. "It was all a lie. Aramis didn't desert his post. You used us to make it convincing," he accused.

Treville raised his head and fixed his steady gaze on Athos. "Yes. We have taken precautions to safeguard the Queen but we need to identify the people who pose a threat to her. A disgraced Musketeer with no cause to love the Royal family and an intimate knowledge of the Palace and the Queen's schedule was felt to be the perfect bait."

"Why Aramis?" Porthos asked. "And, why keep it from us?"

"It had to look convincing."

"You didn't answer the question. Why choose Aramis?" Athos was almost certain he knew the reason. Anne would only trust the father of her child to keep them safe.

"The Queen suggested it. She has a high regard for him and his abilities."

"Leaving aside how we feel about being kept in the dark how could you be so careless as to lose him?" Athos had very little tolerance for incompetence particularly when it left one of his brothers-in-arms in danger.

"Watch your tone, Athos. The plan was to keep him under surveillance at all times. He didn't know who would be watching him and must have decided that the men I'd sent were some kind of threat."

"Or perhaps it wasn't them he was trying to evade. Give us leave to look for him," Athos said. "We're known to be his friends so it shouldn't alarm anyone."

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Porthos asked bitterly. "If he's gone missing it's likely he's in the hands of the English. I doubt if they're asking him politely to betray his Queen."

"Aramis is resourceful. I'm sure he's capable of spinning a convincing tale."

"And, if they torture him?" d'Artagnan asked. "How long before he gives them what they want."

"He'd die first," Athos said with the confidence that came from knowing the truth of Anne and Aramis' relationship.

"Find him," Treville ordered. "But, keep your distance unless his life is threatened. The Queen is the only person who matters. I won't see her and her unborn child slaughtered by a group of fanatics."

"You can trust us," Athos said. Despite worrying about his friend he felt a certain relief at knowing he hadn't ended Aramis' career. "We won't rest until he's found."

Tbc


	4. Chapter 4

I'm sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. My muse had once again deserted me. Thank you for your continued support.

**Past the Point of Rescue**

**Chapter Four**

"Where did he go?" Porthos demanded, pulling the innkeeper toward him by the front of his shirt until the man's face was only inches from his own.

Athos and d'Artagnan adopted threatening poses to discourage any of the tavern's patrons from interfering. Most of the men looked disinterested and the few who seemed concerned quickly decided that it would be safer to mind their own business.

"How should I know," the man responded.

"Did anyone follow him when he left?" Athos asked.

"People come and go all day. I don't pay attention to them leaving."

Porthos made a sound that was close to a deep-throated growl and tightened his grip.

"Let him go, Porthos," Athos said. "You remember what happened last time you lost your temper."

"What happened?" The innkeeper's eyes darted between Athos and d'Artagnan.

"There was a very nice funeral," Athos said. "You see, Porthos doesn't hold back when one of his friends is in trouble. Now, I suggest you reconsider your answer."

"I swear I don't know anything." Sweat poured down the innkeeper's face and he was visibly trembling.

"Think hard," d'Artagnan advised in a friendly tone.

Porthos drew back his right arm. "Think very hard. My patience is almost gone."

"Wait! Wait!," the man struggled ineffectually against Porthos' iron grip. "There were a couple of men who were asking questions."

"What kind of questions?" Porthos shook the man to emphasise his growing angry frustration.

"They wanted to know about your friend…his name, why he wasn't a Musketeer any longer. Whether he had any friends. They were particularly interested to know if he'd spoken out against the King and Queen."

"Do you know their names?" Athos asked.

"I recognised one of them. He works in the whorehouse on the Rue St. Jacques. He keeps the girls and the customers in line, if you know what I mean."

"His name?" Athos asked again.

"Don't know his name."

"Describe him," d'Artagnan said.

"He's just ordinary looking." The man squeaked with fear when Porthos' expression darkened again. "Except for his eyes. One of them doesn't work properly."

"Thank you for your help." Athos touched Porthos on the shoulder and the older man released the innkeeper.

"See, that wasn't so hard," Porthos said with a wolfish grin.

"What now?" d'Artagnan asked.

"You visit the whorehouse. I promise we won't tell Constance."

"There's no reason she would care." D'Artagan said sadly. "She chose to stay with her husband. What I do doesn't interest her." With an effort he stopped himself from slipping into a maudlin mood. He missed Constance more rather than less as the days passed. "Is there a reason I have to be the one to do this?"

"You aren't as well-known as we are and less likely to be recognised as a Musketeer. We want to find him, not scare him off."

"What happens when we find him?" Porthos asked.

"We ask him some questions," Athos replied grimly.

TMTMTM

The brothel was in one of the least desirable parts of town, catering to the men who worked on the river docks and other less fastidious clientele. D'Artagnan wrinkled up his nose with distaste as the smell of alcohol, sweat and cheap scent invaded his senses. He'd been ushered enthusiastically into the establishment by the woman in charge and was now faced with half a dozen women ranging in age from about sixteen to a pair who looked to be twice that age.

"This one." He pointed to a young woman with brightly dyed red hair and crimson lips. Her heavy makeup hid a face that might once have been pretty. She smiled triumphantly at her friends while her breasts threatened to spill over the top of her dress. With a despairing thought of Constance and the one time they had made love he took the woman's hand and let her lead him upstairs. Once in the privacy of one of the threadbare bedrooms he backed away. "What's your name?"

She paused in the act of unbuttoning her dress. "Minette." He must have been looking terrified because she gave him a genuine smile that gave him a glimpse of her faded charm. "First time, is it, love? Don't worry. I'll take good care of you."

Although he was far from inexperienced it was his first experience of paying for sex. With his youth and a silver tongue he'd never been short of willing partners. "Yes…no," he stammered. "I'm here looking for someone."

"Don't be shy." Her dress fell to the floor to expose more of her bosom and her undergarments.

D'Artagnan held up his hands to stop her going any further. "Look, I'll pay you, but I just want to ask you some questions."

Disappointment and suspicion warred for dominance on her face. "What's going on? I've got a living to make you know."

"I'm trying to find a man who works here." He gave the description, hoping that it was enough. "A friend of mine has disappeared and I think he might know where to find him."

Her lips curled into a sneer. "That'll be Marcel. If he was involved your friend's probably dead."

D'Artagnan's heart fluttered in fear. "Is he working tonight?"

"He was supposed to be. He's a bastard so the girls were all happy when he didn't show up. He gave me these." She indicated an area of vivid bruising around her upper arm.

He felt his anger rise. One thing he would never tolerate was violence toward a woman. Even when they were playacting for Milady's benefit he'd felt uncomfortable with Athos' deliberately vicious behaviour. He couldn't imagine ever treating a woman he had loved in that manner.

"What do you know about him?"

"He was a soldier who came back wrong in the head. He'd kill you sooner than talk to you."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"He has lodging on the Rue des Eaux. It's a boarding house about half way down. You can't miss it."

"Thank you." D'Artagnan pulled out a couple of coins and offered them to her. "Please don't tell anyone."

She took the money and grinned. "Your secret's safe with me, handsome. I hope you find him. Now, are you sure there's nothing more I can do for you?"

TMTMTM

When he awoke Aramis' headache had reduced in virulence. He lay quietly for a few minutes before sitting up. His weapons were no-where in sight and neither were his clothes. He discovered that he was clad only in his under-garments. Not in the least abashed he got out of bed and walked a little unsteadily to the window. When he opened the curtains he found that it was night. He was in an upper storey room on a street that had no distinguishing features. He could be anywhere in Paris.

He made his way to the door and turned the handle. "Interesting," he murmured when he realised that the door was locked. He returned to bed, lying comfortably and waiting for Vivian's return. The candle had burnt down an inch before he heard the key turning in the lock. Vivian entered alone carrying a tray.

"You're awake! How do you feel?" She placed the tray on a bedside table. "Some broth in case you're hungry."

"Why was the door locked?"

"Let me help you to sit up." She busied herself with positioning pillows so that he had support for his back.

"The door?"

"Oh, yes. That was for your protection. You were very disoriented and I was afraid you might leave the room and injure yourself if you lost your balance. The stairs in this house are very steep. You could break your neck if you fell down them." She laid a napkin across his lap and picked up the bowl. "Can you manage?"

Aramis made no move to accept the spoon. "Where are my clothes and my sword?"

"Your clothes are being laundered. There was blood on them from the injury to your head. Your weapons are downstairs and will, of course, be returned to you. Please eat."

"I'm sorry. I must seem very ungrateful."

"It's understandable. You're in a strange place and you aren't well. I can assure you, though, that you are quite safe here."

Aramis took the bowl and spoon, noting the tremor in his hands. It took all his concentration to bring the spoon to his mouth without spilling broth on the bedclothes. "Did you get a message to my friends?" he asked.

A frown darkened her beautiful face. "One of my men went to the garrison and sought out Athos. When he explained that you had been attacked and left for dead Athos asked what interest that could have for him."

"I see." He gave up trying to eat and stared at the bed. "It seems that everyone has turned against me."

"Not everyone." She laid a hand over his. "You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish and perhaps you would be interested in meeting some of my friends."

He laced his fingers with hers and summoned up a sad smile. "When old friends desert you it is time to find new ones. Thank you, Vivian. What would become of me without your kindness?"

Tbc


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you for the lovely reviews and to everyone who is reading, following and making this story one of their favourites. It really does encourage me to write.

**Past the Point of Rescue**

**Chapter Five**

It was close to midnight before the Musketeers reached their destination. The streets were still busy, mainly with thieves, pickpockets and prostitutes all looking to take advantage of the few decent folk wending their way home. A couple argued loudly at the intersection of two roads, competing in volume with a pack of stray dogs fighting over scraps of food. It broke Athos' heart to see people living in such squalor. It made the luxury enjoyed by the King and his Court seem almost obscene. It was no wonder that there was unrest in the city. Compared to many noblemen he had kept a modest household and had taken pride in working side by side with his people. That he had abandoned them was one of many regrets he held deep inside.

The boarding house was identified by a faded sign showing a bed and a crescent moon. Athos knocked sharply on the front door and waited impatiently for it to open. The large woman who answered had greasy grey hair piled in an untidy bun on top of her head and alcohol laden breath strong enough to make him recoil.

"What do you want?" she asked belligerently.

"I am Athos of the King's Musketeers. I seek Marcel who I am told lodges here."

"What do you want him for?" she asked, leaning against the doorframe and slurring her words.

"That is none of your business. Is he here?"

"I don't want no trouble." She rested her hands on her hips, looking capable of laying him out with one blow if she was of a mind to do so.

He prudently stepped back out of her reach. "Neither do we, I assure you."

She continued to glare suspiciously at Athos. "He's upstairs. You'd best come in."

The Musketeers followed her into a narrow hallway. The whole building stank of mould and other even less savory aromas.

"Second door on the left." She gestured to a steep flight of stairs.

"Thank you, Madame."

"Don't kill him. It's bad for business and it's the devil's own job to get blood out of the floorboards.

"We'll bear that in mind," Athos replied wryly.

With a final glare the woman left them.

"Porthos, why don't you wait in the alley in case he chooses to run?" He'd noticed a thawing of the frosty treatment he had previously received from his companions and had no fear of dissent. Whatever else might have happened, they still looked to him as their leader.

"Good idea." Porthos walked away to take up his position.

"Remember we need him alive," Athos cautioned.

D'Artagnan drew his sword. "I know. I'm not an idiot. He's the only lead we've got."

"I didn't mean to imply anything."

"I know," d'Artagnan admitted. "I'm just worried about Aramis. This is taking too long."

Athos led the way upstairs wincing as each step creaked under his weight. He identified the correct door and knocked. "Open the door," he called. "We're here on the King's business."

Silence greeted them.

"I don't think he wants to talk to us," d'Artagnan said.

"I can't imagine why not." Athos raised his voice to shout out a final warning. He might be better at hiding it, but he was just as concerned as d'Artagnan about the passage of time.

They heard a noise from inside the room but the door stayed shut. D'Artagnan tried the handle. "It's locked."

"Stand back."

The lock wasn't strong enough to withstand the force of Athos' kick. The door swung open just in time for them to glimpse a man leaping through the open window. There was a thud followed by a cry of pain. They reached the window and looked out. Porthos grinned up at them.

"I think he broke his arm," he said, standing over the prone body of their quarry and not sounding the least bit sympathetic.

"Look after him," Athos said. "We'll search his room."

It took no more than a couple of minutes to go through Marcel's meagre possessions. They only thing they found was a small purse filled with gold coins. It was considerably more money than a man like him should have.

"I wonder what he did to earn this?" d'Artagnan asked. He had an unpleasant feeling in his gut that he already knew the answer.

"Aramis is still alive." Athos accurately guessed the younger man's thoughts. "He's too useful to them."

"What if he fought back when they tried to take him? He might have forced their hand."

Athos laid a comforting hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder, pleased that the younger man didn't pull away. "We have to keep faith. We will find him."

"I'm sorry." D'Artagnan hung his head. "You're right."

When they reached the alley Marcel was on his feet, cradling his right arm with his left hand. He looked pale, sullen and not in the mood for talking.

"Pity Aramis isn't here," Porthos said. "He could have set that arm."

A flicker of recognition and fear crossed Marcel's face. "I need a doctor," he whined.

"I'm afraid that isn't possible," Athos replied. "We have some questions for you first."

"You've no right to treat me like this."

"You forget who you're talking to."

"We should get moving." Porthos looked around the alleyway. A small crowd had gathered at a safe distance.

"Just to be clear," Athos said to Marcel. "If you try to run we will hurt you. If you cooperate there will be no reason for further pain."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere we won't be disturbed. Lead the way, d'Artagnan. Porthos, keep an eye on our friend. You have my permission to knock him out if he tries anything."

"My pleasure." Porthos looked like he would relish the prospect and that appeared to convince their prisoner to do as he was told.

TMTMTM

With the horses bedded down for the night the stables at the garrison were quiet. Athos carried two chairs in from the yard and Porthos pressed Marcel into one of them. Athos sat opposite, legs stretched out, completely at his ease. He'd already briefed Treville and knew that the Captain would ensure that they weren't disturbed.

"Where's Aramis?" He sighed when he received no answer. "It isn't a difficult question. We know you were following him. Now he's disappeared. What happened to him?"

"I don't know. He gave us the slip."

"I believe that's partly true. Porthos, could you encourage him to tell us the rest?"

Porthos' fist connected with Marcel's cheek, sending him crashing to the floor. With a howl of agony Marcel squirmed away, holding his broken arm close to his body.

"I didn't lay a finger on your friend. You've no cause to treat me like this."

D'Artagnan puzzled over the choice of words. "Someone else hurt him?"

Marcel got unsteadily to his feet and sat heavily on the chair. "He was in the wrong part of town. Almost got himself shanghaied." He gave Athos an unpleasant grin.

"But he didn't. What happened?" His patience was wearing dangerously thin.

"The English lady came and took him," Marcel said sullenly.

"Took him where?" Porthos asked.

"Her house." Marcel looked nervously at Porthos. "I can show you once I've seen a doctor."

"Alright. We'll see to it that you receive medical help and then you'll take us to the house. You'll be staying in Musketeer custody until Aramis is safe. We can't risk you running off to your friends."

"This doesn't make sense," d'Artagnan said. "Who is she? Why take him to her house?"

"It sounds like they want to try and recruit him. That's good news." Athos turned to Marcel. "Was he hurt?"

"He was smacked across the head. Last I saw he was unconscious and bleeding. Maybe he didn't wake up," he said rashly.

"You'd better hope he's still alive," Porthos growled. "Or we're going to take it very personally."

Tbc


	6. Chapter 6

**Past the Point of Rescue**

**Chapter Six**

Aramis buttoned up his breeches after tucking in his shirt. The freshly laundered linen felt smooth and cool against his skin. All of the dirt that must have clung to his clothes after he collapsed in the filthy street had been cleaned away. No trace of his ordeal remained except for the faint throbbing in his forehead. He raised a hand, pressing lightly on the tender area at the back of his skull where he had been struck. He winched as a sharp pain made him feel momentarily dizzy. Fortunately it quickly receded when he removed his fingers from the wound.

Despite assurances, neither his sword nor any of his other weapons had been returned to him causing him to feel unusually vulnerable. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and opened the door.

A large man, heavily muscled, waited outside. "This way."

He got his first proper look at the house as he was led downstairs and towards a room at the back. It had a neglected feel to it. Although it was spotlessly clean the curtains were worn and faded and the wood was without the sheen caused by normal occupancy. Aramis took a quick look at the front door where another man stood sentinel. He had been right to distrust Vivian. He was in a prison. It was a very comfortable one but he was convinced that leaving without permission wasn't an option.

He was ushered into a small dining room with windows overlooking a neglected garden. Vivian was already there, dressed in lavender silk. He thought he caught a glimpse of a profound sadness on her beautiful face before she acknowledged his arrival with a smile.

"Aramis, it's good to see you up and looking better."

"I owe it all to your hospitality." He bowed to her. "Without your intervention I would likely be dead."

"Join me."

The table was laden with freshly baked bread, cold ham, chicken and cheeses. A young maidservant hurried to pour ale into a tankard as he took his seat.

"Tell me about my benefactress," he said. He was hungry and loaded his plate although he noted that she wasn't eating.

"I'm more interested in you. It's rare to meet a Musketeer who has lost his commission. I thought neglecting your duty carried a death sentence."

Aramis finished a mouthful of bread and cheese. "The King was merciful." The bitterness of his tone belied his words.

"He rewarded your loyalty by throwing you away? That isn't mercy. How long did you serve?"

"Almost ten years." He sliced some meat from the breast of the chicken and put it on her plate. "Eat."

She ignored the food. "What will you do now?"

He drank some ale while he considered his answer. "Find a war and fight. It's what I'm good at."

"I can offer something better." She leaned forward eagerly. "Times are changing, Aramis. People no longer revere Kings who think only of their own pleasures."

"You're talking treason."

"I owe no fealty to the French throne. My mother was a Huguenot, hounded from her home because of her beliefs. She fled to England where she met and married my father. He saved her from persecution."

"Why are you here, Vivian?" Her words and the passion in her voice marked her as a fanatic. She was no naïve dupe, doing the bidding of some unseen puppet master. She was a dangerous woman who wouldn't hesitate to kill him or order his death if he gave her cause. So far she was using her womanly wiles to reel him in. She would undoubtedly use more painful means of persuasion if that failed. He found that he had lost his appetite.

"My mission is to help the French people see that there is a better life."

"How?"

"That information must wait until you meet some of my friends. But, before that I must be certain that you can be trusted."

"I have no wish to become embroiled in a conspiracy." He knew that it would appear suspicious if he was too eager. He had been resigned from the first moment he was told of the threat to the Queen to the fact that he might be tortured for information. It was his hope to avoid it if possible, but he would do whatever was necessary to protect Anne and their child.

"I beg you to listen. You have knowledge that can help us. Will you stand idly by while people are victimised because of their religion?"

"I am Catholic but hold no hatred for the Huguenots." He reverently touched the cross he wore around his neck. It was a tangible reminder of his love for the Queen and his deep religious convictions. "You are right about changing times. Protestants worship openly now without fear of censure or death. Your revolution comes twenty years too late."

"The Catholic church is corrupt and cares nothing for ordinary men. Look at Cardinal Richelieu. He wields much power but does nothing to save peoples souls."

Aramis couldn't argue against that statement. "I will meet your friends but be warned that I am still loyal to the Crown."

"We must work to change your mind before we take that step. I won't expose them to someone whose loyalty is questionable. Let me ask you this. What has your service to the King brought you? Disgrace. Exile. The contempt of the ruling class. What of your friends? Where are they when you need them?"

That was a question Aramis had asked himself. He knew Treville would have confessed the truth and that they would be looking for him. Would they find him in time? He didn't believe that Vivian had sent a message to Athos although he had to pretend that he trusted her word and that he felt betrayed. "All valid points. However, I can't just throw away ten years of service."

"They did." She put her hand over his. "Think about it, Aramis. Your knowledge could give us the opening we need."

"Was it really chance that led you to me in my time of need?"

She blushed hotly. "Not entirely. I was looking for you. Believe, though, that I would never have ordered that you be injured."

"They were your men who were following me?"

"Yes. I am sorry for the deceit."

"You are forgiven." Aramis laced his fingers with hers. "How can I resist the passionate appeal of a beautiful woman?" His smile masked his distaste at having to pretend to like the woman who was central to the assassination plot.

"Thank you. Now I beg another favour. As a sign of good faith I need you to tell me about the guards around the chambers of the King and Queen. How many there are. Where they are stationed. How often the guard changes."

"You are asking a great deal. Why would you want to know that?"

"It's only a test. We already know the answers so you aren't betraying anyone."

Aramis didn't believe her. Only someone with inside knowledge could accurately provide that information and, if they already had someone who could tell them, they wouldn't need him. "I need time to consider this."

She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Take all the time you need."

It took all his self-control not to pull away in disgust. "You have made a passionate appeal. I will consider your words carefully. Give me until sundown to provide my answer."

Tbc


	7. Chapter 7

**Past the Point of Rescue**

**Chapter Seven**

Athos was exhausted after spending the night watching the house identified by Marcel. There had been no sign of movement and nothing to prove that Aramis was inside. Now that the sun had risen the street was getting crowded with men going to work and women heading to the market to buy food. Although they were some distance away from the premises Athos began to feel very exposed due to the curious looks they were receiving.

"It's a nice area, this is," Porthos said. "Not the sort of place you expect to find a conspiracy to kill the Queen."

"Danger often comes from the most unlikely of places," Athos replied.

"That's true."

"I thought we were supposed to be at peace with England," d'Artagnan said. "Why would they interfere in France's affairs?"

"It sounds like we're dealing with a radical faction, although it's hard to see what they hope to achieve. If they succeed in killing Queen Anne, it won't be long before there is pressure on the King to marry again."

"Louis is weak," Porthos said thoughtfully. "He's just as likely to fall into a black depression as he is to remarry."

"Then even more power will devolve to the Cardinal and he won't tolerate any unrest amongst the populace," Athos said. "Either way it doesn't make much sense."

"Maybe there's more to this plot than we know," d'Artagnan suggested. "What if it isn't just the Queen who is the target? Who would succeed to the throne if the King died without an heir?"

"Gaston, Duke of Orleans. He's in exile after plotting against the King. The last time I heard anything about him he was in Flanders." Athos, as a son of the nobility knew far more about the history of the country and its rulers than his two companions. "I suppose he could have gone from there to England to stir up support for his cause. It seems unlikely that he would ally himself with Protestants though."

"He might if he was desperate," Porthos said. "We could've just have stumbled onto a bigger plot to wipe out the Royal Family."

"That puts Aramis in even greater danger," d'Artagnan said. "We should rescue him while we have the chance."

"The lives of the King and Queen are more important," Athos said sadly, watching the range of emotions crossing the faces of his friends. It appeared he was going to continue to be regarded as the villain even though he was only speaking the truth.

D'Artagnan turned away to hide his anger and a feeling of helpless frustration. He knew Athos was right but he wasn't looking at the situation rationally. His friend was in danger and every instinct screamed at him to do something about it. He was staring at the house when movement jerked him out of his brooding. "A coach has just stopped outside," he said.

Athos and Porthos moved to his side. "That must be the woman Marcel told us about," Athos said when a cloaked figure walked out of the house and was helped into the coach by a bodyguard. "Porthos, you stay here. D'Artagnan and I will follow her. She might lead us to the other conspirators."

"Right."

Athos and d'Artagnan walked quickly to where they had left their horses and mounted up. "Don't get too close," Athos warned. "We don't want to scare her off."

"I know what I'm doing," d'Artagnan replied hotly.

Athos sighed. It was going to be a long day.

TMTMTM

Aramis paced around the bedroom, replaying his conversation with Vivian in his head. She hadn't come right out and said there was a plot to assassinate the Queen, but her questions made it clear that some scheme was in motion that was detrimental to the monarchy. He wandered over to the window and looked out, hoping to see some sign of his friends. The street was busy but he saw no-one he recognized. He was still watching when Vivian left in her coach. He decided it was time to test his theory that he was a prisoner.

When he opened the door he found the same large guard waiting outside. He stopped with an expression of surprise on his face when the man moved quickly to bar his way.

"Where are you going?"

"Outside. For a walk to clear my head," Aramis said.

"No. You stay here until the Mistress gets back."

The man spoke passable French although his accent gave away his nationality. "You're English?" Aramis asked.

"None of your business."

"I'm just trying to be friendly. Now, why don't you tell me why I can't leave?"

"I have my orders."

"I see. I don't suppose you'd overlook those orders?" The guard continued to glare at him. "No? Then it appears I will have to wait for Vivian to return. Where did she go?" He waited to see if he would get an answer. "Let me guess. It's none of my business."

"Get back inside."

With a deep sigh Aramis did as he was told. If he'd really been intent upon escaping he would have considered leaving by way of the window. It wouldn't be the first time that he'd left a beautiful woman's bedroom by that route. However, escaping wasn't part of the plan even if staying ultimately cost him his life. He lay down on the bed and let his thoughts wander to the night of pure bliss that he'd spent in the arms of Queen Anne. A flight of fancy took him to a place where he could be a father to his child. He imagined what it would feel like to hold the baby, remembering his surprisingly paternal thoughts while helping to save Agnes and Henry. But, he knew the truth. He would never be more than one of the soldiers paid to guard the King and his family. Although he would see the baby he wouldn't be allowed to touch it. It saddened him more than he had expected. It also hardened his resolve to do all in his power to make sure that Anne lived to give birth.

TMTMTM

Vivian dismounted from the coach and took a minute to look around. She was at the warehouse close to where Aramis had been struck down. She ignored the lascivious looks from the men who plied their trade in the area and directed a haughty stare at one of the cheap whores who clearly saw her as competition. Her bodyguard, Richard, dismounted from the seat beside the driver and took hold of her arm.

"This way, Madame. We should get you out of sight."

"Wait here," Vivian said to her driver before walking with Richard toward the door.

There were half a dozen men waiting in the warehouse. All except one were mercenaries hired by her husband. She shuddered when their hungry stares raked her body. The sixth man who was probably the most dangerous of the group was her spouse. She bit her lip nervously. It was hard to keep her composure in his presence.

"Well?"

"Not yet, George. He will tell us what we need to know, I'm sure of it, but it will take time."

"What's the matter, Wife? Isn't he attracted to you? All the reports we had about this man say he is a fool when it comes to women. Perhaps you aren't trying hard enough. Did you sleep with him?"

She flushed a deep red. Although she had enjoyed flirting with Aramis she had never had any intention of going further. "No. How can you ask that? I am faithful to you."

"Not faithful enough it seems. I told you to do whatever was necessary to lure him to our side. The longer we stay here the more chance that we will be discovered and that won't please our master."

For a moment she looked at him quizzically. He had never before mentioned that they were answering to someone else. She'd long known that her husband was involved on the fringes of Protestant schemes to overthrow the rule of the Catholic Church and she had supported him as was expected of her. She held her own beliefs, coloured by the stories of religious intolerance told by her mother, but he had never been interested in her views. As a woman she was expected to be devoted and silent. It had been a surprise when he told her to accompany him to France and then she had found herself thrust into the centre of the conspiracy when they heard of a disgraced Musketeer with a weakness for a pretty face.

"I won't prostitute myself," she said with sudden spirit when the full meaning of his words became clear to her. Even as she protested she wondered what it would feel like to be loved by a man like Aramis. He was handsome and she sensed that he would treat any woman with kindness. She would be lying if she said she wasn't attracted to him.

George strode over and took hold of her arm with a grip designed to inflict pain. He drew back his other hand and slapped her across the face. She cried out in shock and tried to pull away. Her cheek felt like it was on fire and she tasted blood at the corner of her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes, trickling down her face. She heard the other men laughing and her humiliation increased.

"Show him what his defiance has cost you," George said cruelly as he released her. "I want him here tonight ready to talk. If he won't help us voluntarily I'm sure we can find others ways to persuade him."

"He's a soldier. If you torture him he's likely to take his knowledge to the grave." She pulled a handkerchief from her purse and dabbed at the blood on her lips, her stomach roiling with fear and disgust.

"I'm aware of that. It's the only reason I'm using you to beguile him. Go back to him, my dear, and persuade him to our cause. I will be very unhappy with you if you fail."

She shivered in response to the threat. Her husband had always been unpredictable in his moods and she had often been afraid that the violence she saw in him would be turned towards her. The fact that he had struck her underscored his fanatical commitment to their undertaking. She pulled up her hood to hide her bruised and swollen face and left to seduce their oblivious prisoner.

Tbc


	8. Chapter 8

I am grateful to everyone who is reading, for the reviews, alerts and favourites. Next Monday I go on vacation for a couple of weeks so it's unlikely I'll post more of this story until I return. I will try to post another chapter of The Court of Miracles before I leave.

**Past the Point of Rescue**

**Chapter Eight**

Athos left d'Artagnan to watch the front of the building. He made his way down the side of it until he reached an area where the wooden wall was rotting. He knelt down and carefully pried apart two of the boards. A woman's pained cry made him reach reflexively for his pistol. He waited tensely for several seconds before edging closer to the small vantage point he'd created.

The lighting inside the warehouse was dim, making it impossible to see the features of the people inside. Athos could see a man and woman standing close together with other men spread out around the room. He had hold of her arm and appeared to be hurting her if her rigid posture was any indication.

The scene reminded Athos too vividly of his assault on his wife. He had caused her pain as part of their pretense to break with d'Artagnan. He hadn't enjoyed it although there had been a fleeting thought that he was delivering justifiable retribution for her many crimes.

He listened to their conversation, catching enough of the English words to know that Aramis was running out of time. He wondered if the other heavily armed men constituted all of the conspirators. They had to take care. If they moved prematurely and without all the facts they risked only delaying the plan, not thwarting it completely.

When the woman left the warehouse he returned to d'Artagnan. "Aramis has until tonight to prove his complicity," he reported. "That woman has been given the task of persuading him."

"What if she fails?"

"They'll torture him for the information. Fortunately Aramis knows what he faces and will no doubt spin a pretty tale to persuade them of his sincerity. I must report this to the Captain."

"We need to get Aramis out. There's no guarantee they won't torture him anyway to check the truth of what he tells them."

"We can't do that. Not until we know we've identified all the conspirators."

"You're risking his life." D'Artagnan's raised voice was drawing unwanted attention.

"He made that choice when he volunteered for this mission." Athos was concerned that his younger colleague was going to do something rash which could ruin everything. It wouldn't be the first time d'Artagnan had raced into a perilous situation without considering the consequences.

D'Artagnan gripped Athos' sleeve. "Don't you care what happens to him?"

Athos had been holding his temper on a short leash since discovering the deception. Now his self-control shattered at being accused once again of being callous. "Of course I care. Aramis and I have fought side by side for more than five years. He's closer to me than my brother ever was. I will do anything…risk anything to keep him safe, but we're soldiers. We risk our lives every day and I won't diminish his bravery by moving too hastily."

D'Artagnan bowed his head and his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Athos."

"Don't be. We're all brothers and I'd think less of you if you didn't care so passionately." He held out his hand and d'Artagnan gripped it firmly.

"All for one," d'Artagnan said.

"And one for all," Athos replied fervently.

"So, what do we do now?"

"This is no peasant uprising to be easily overcome. There is a well-dressed man inside. Follow him when he leaves. I believe he is their leader. Find out where he goes and then rejoin Porthos. I'm going to talk to Treville. We will need more men if we are to foil this plot. I will be back as soon as possible."

TMTMTM

Athos reached the garrison and quickly dismounted, leaving his horse in the care of the stable boy.

"Captain," he called as he raced up the stairs.

Treville met him at the door to his office. "You have news?"

"Yes. We've found Aramis and the meeting place of those plotting against the Queen."

"Come inside." Treville poured two glasses of wine, pushing one toward Athos. "Word has just come from the Palace. The Queen has gone into labour."

Athos quickly calculated the time that had passed since the events at the convent. If she was full term the child couldn't possibly be Aramis'. In Athos' mind that would save many complications. "She's early?"

"Four weeks according to her physicians."

That news dashed Athos' hope. "What of the child? Can it survive?" He couldn't imagine how Aramis would react if the baby died. His friend was already suffering, knowing that he and Anne had no future.

"They are hopeful that if she rests her pains will stop. I pray that they are right. A premature baby faces many challenges. Most do not thrive. This assassination plot has affected the Queen greatly. Maybe the news that we are close to bringing the plotters to justice will help. I don't think she could bear the disappointment of losing another child, particularly after the difficulty she had conceiving. Tell me what you've discovered and I'll inform the King."

Athos cleared his throat, uncomfortably aware that it wasn't the Queen who was at fault for the lack of an heir. "The leader is English as we suspected. He's using a woman to try and turn Aramis but he's grown impatient. If they get word that the Queen is in childbirth they might decide that their plot cannot succeed. If that happens Aramis is expendable so we need to move quickly."

"Where are they?"

"The meeting place is a warehouse close to the docks. I will draw you a map. Aramis is in a house on the Avenue Montaigne. Captain, is it possible that this plot goes beyond killing the Queen?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Her death would leave the King distraught but would do little to destabilise the country. What could the English Protestants hope to gain?"

"You have a theory?"

"One possibility among many. Could this be the beginning of a coup?"

Treville drained his glass. "The King's mother? I don't see her trying again. At least not yet."

"No. I was thinking of his brother, the exiled Duke of Orleans."

"I'll talk to the King. We've already doubled the guards on the Royal apartments. I'll recommend that he sequester himself until we know more. Take as many men as you need and, Athos, capture their leader alive."

"We'll do our best."

Tbc


	9. Chapter 9

**Past the Point of Rescue**

**Chapter Nine**

"What happened to you?" Aramis' protective and caring nature sprang to the fore at the sight of Vivian's bruised and swollen face.

Her fragile composure dissolved as tears began to stream down her cheeks. "Punishment for failing to convince you to join us."

Aramis pulled her into his arms, letting her sob against his shoulder. His shirt quickly became soaked by her hot tears. "Who did this?"

"It doesn't matter. I have failed." Her voice was muffled.

"You are too hasty to judge yourself. I have been thinking about what you said as I promised I would."

She pulled away and looked up into his face. "You will help us?"

"Come and sit down." He guided her to the bed and sat beside her. "I have been discarded by the people I served. I made one mistake and now my life is ruined. The men I thought of as my brothers have turned away from me. There is no-one left to whom I owe my loyalty." He put as much passion into his words as he could, praying that she believed him.

"I'm sorry, Aramis. You are a good man who didn't deserve that treatment."

He bowed his head in acknowledgment of her sincere words. "What do you need from me?"

"Proof of your loyalty to our cause." Her tears had disappeared and hope sparked in her eyes.

"First I need to know what I'm committing to."

Vivian lowered her head while she considered her next move. What harm would it do to confess the truth? He couldn't escape to spread the news and, if he tried to betray them he would be killed. "We seek the death of the Queen."

Aramis couldn't help his reaction. To hear it put into words so cold-heartedly angered him beyond reason. The speed of his breathing increased while he fought down the urge to break her neck. He wasn't a naturally violent man, except where circumstances required it, and he had never hurt a woman in his life. Now, though, the impulse to kill was strong in defence of the woman he loved and their child.

"She is with child," he said, his voice husky with emotion.

"Women and children die all the time. Who weeps for them?"

"How can you be so callous?"

"The Royal family care for no-one other than themselves. Why should we care what happens to them?"

"I'm sorry," Aramis said, reining in his unruly emotions. "You caught me by surprise. I am used to defending the Queen, not plotting her death. She is a gentle soul with more compassion than you give her credit for."

"Will you help us?" Vivian asked eagerly.

"I'd like to know why."

"The King will be left without an heir and will need to remarry. There are no eligible Catholic princesses so he will be forced to turn to one of the Protestant countries. And, it is no secret that France is almost bankrupt, so he will need a wife who can bring a substantial dowry. A strong Protestant Queen will help to move the country to a more enlightened state."

Aramis doubted that. Catholic or Protestant, royalty would only ever put their interests first. "Why do you care?"

"Fighting the Catholic cause is part of my heritage."

He was convinced that she believed her words although he did not think she fully understood the web of lies and deceit she that entangled her. "Very well. You want to know about the security surrounding the King and Queen. I will tell you. In return I want to meet your friends."

"We need more from you. You know the Queen's routines, where she will be and how many will accompany her. There must be ways into the Palace and routes used by the servants that by-pass much of the security."

"There are ways to reach her. I will give the information to your leader; no-one else."

"You will meet him tonight. Thank you, Aramis." She leaned over to kiss him but he moved away.

"I won't take advantage of you, Vivian." He could see her mingled relief and disappointment. He knew he was attractive to women and has the knack of making them feel good about themselves but he had never forced his attentions on an unwilling recipient. "You are a beautiful woman who had been badly treated." He gently touched her cheek. In truth he couldn't bring himself to be intimate with her although he would have put aside his scruples if it had been necessary. "You owe loyalty to your husband. I will not trespass over that."

He couldn't decipher her look. Was it fear? Anger? Resignation? Was her husband embroiled in this conspiracy? It seemed likely but what kind of man dangled his wife as bait?

"I wish we had met under different circumstances," she whispered. "I would have been proud to be loved by a man like you."

His breath caught. Anne had said something similar before proving that she was as attracted to him as he was to her. "Your husband is a fortunate man and he's a fool if he doesn't treasure you."

"Let's not speak of him. You will meet him soon enough and can judge for yourself what kind of man he is."

TMTMTM

"We have to get him out," d'Artagnan pleaded. He'd rejoined Porthos after following the well-dressed man to a house just a few blocks away.

"We wait for Athos."

"It could be too late. We know where to find the conspirators. He doesn't need to stay in danger."

"We don't know his condition. Marcel said he was hurt. And, we have no idea how many men guard him. Rushing in could get him killed."

"I know." d'Artagnan's anger deflated. "I hate being so close and not being able to help him."

Porthos gripped his shoulder. "I'm no more patient than you but we have to wait."

They both turned sharply, hands reaching for their swords when they heard footsteps behind them.

"Take it easy," Athos said, joining them. "Any developments?"

"Nothing since the woman returned," Porthos replied. "What did Treville say?"

"We have men surrounding the warehouse. We wait until Aramis is taken to meet their leader and then we attack." He looked toward the house, as eager as his friends to save their brother.

"There's more," Porthos said accusingly, looking carefully at Athos. "What aren't you saying?"

Athos sighed. "The Queen is in labour. They can't reach her now."

"If they find that out Aramis is as good as dead," d'Artagnan said heatedly. "Do you still think we have time to wait?"

"We have no choice. All we can do is hope that word doesn't reach the conspirators before we can arrest them."

Tbc


	10. Chapter 10

Thank you for continuing to read this story. I will be traveling for most of the week so wanted to post this before I go. I'd hoped that this chapter would see the efforts of Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan to save their brother but we're not quite there yet. I am struggling to write without a beta to help and encourage me. If anyone is interested please send me a PM.

**Past the Point of Rescue**

**Chapter Ten**

The hours passed excruciatingly slowly. The waiting caused Athos to become increasingly morose, his confidence mingling with the doubt that nibbled incessantly at the edges of his mind. They had no proof that Aramis was in the house; no proof that he still lived. They would be in the wrong place waiting while their brother was tortured or, worse, was executed alone and afraid.

At noon he sent d'Artagnan in search of food even though he had no appetite. He'd watched their young friend becoming more and more agitated and feared unwise action if he didn't provide an outlet for pent-up energy.

Each time someone approached the house he held his breath almost unconsciously. So far no-one had brought news about the Queen. If the populace of Paris knew she was in childbirth that news hadn't yet reached those inhabiting the house they were studying so intently. That didn't mean their leader wasn't aware of developments. If Aramis was taken to meet the man he and d'Artagnan had seen it could be he was going to his death.

"Stop it," Porthos said.

"What?" Athos asked, surprised by the abrupt breaking of the silence that had blanketed them for so long.

"You're brooding."

"You know me too well." Athos gave his friend a weak smile.

"Going into a fight when you're distracted is a sure way to get killed."

"I won't be distracted when it matters."

"You'd better not be."

Athos acknowledged Porthos' words with a curt nod. To take his mind off his worry he thought back to the interminable lectures on tactics he'd endured as a young man. He'd dutifully absorbed the information, never really believing that he'd have to put it into practice. It was only when he walked away from his heritage and joined the Musketeers that he found it of use. With the theoretical knowledge, his hard-won skill with a sword and his natural air of command he'd soon become Treville's most trusted soldier. Even Aramis and Porthos, seasoned fighters in their own right, looked to him to lead. That day he didn't feel worthy of the honour.

Day turned to night without any movement or further news about Queen Anne. It was late in the evening before a carriage arrived in front of the house.

"Get ready," Athos said.

When the front door of the house opened he couldn't hold back a fierce grin. Aramis walked out with the woman who was once again cloaked and anonymous. Two large men accompanied them and Aramis was unarmed but none of that mattered. Their brother was alive and unharmed.

He stepped out into the street when he saw that Aramis was surreptitiously looking around. He only stayed in the open for a couple of seconds but it was enough. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before he returned to concealment. His relief, he noted, was mirrored on the faces of Porthos and d'Artagnan.

"Now can we go and kill some English scum?" Porthos asked fiercely.

"Yes, although Treville wants the leader alive for questioning."

Porthos grimaced. "I'm not making any promises."

TMTMTM

The sight of Athos helped to calm Aramis' nerves. He'd been terrified of being forced to betray the Queen although he'd resolved to die rather than talk. Now he knew his brothers were close and that he would be rescued. He got into the coach after assisting Vivian and sat opposite her. "Where are we going?"

"Not far," she said vaguely before leaning forward to rest a hand on his knee. "Aramis, the people we're going to meet are very dangerous. Please don't anger them. They'll hurt you if they have to."

"I've told you that I'll give them the information they seek. There is no need to fear for my safety."

She bit her lip. "I do fear for you. George is unpredictable."

"He's your husband?" Aramis guessed. "And the man who struck you. He's the one who should be afraid."

"You would defend me?" she asked softly.

"To my last breath," he replied untruthfully. He knew that if she was arrested neither her youth nor her sex would save her from the wrath of the King. "Vivian, do you know how much you risk with this endeavour? If it fails you will be executed."

Some of the blood left her cheeks. "We won't fail. Noth with your help."

Under any other circumstances he would have been tempted to warn her but he was too close to breaking up the conspiracy to take risks. "You're right."

The blinds on the windows were pulled down so he couldn't see where they were going. He wasn't concerned. His friends would be following them and that made him feel safe. Whatever was to come he could face it in the knowledge that he wasn't alone.

When the coach stopped and he stepped out he immediately recognized their location. It was the warehouse he'd been watching when he was attacked. He also saw faces he knew and realized that the building was already surrounded by Musketeers. His two guards crowded close, ensuring that he couldn't run. Vivian was taking no chances with his loyalty.

They entered the building which was lit by torches in wall sconces. They weren't alone. Eight heavily armed men stood around the room but it was the man waiting in the middle that drew Aramis' full attention. This, he was convinced, was Vivian's husband. The man was elegantly dressed in a dark brown silk doublet and hose. He looked to be at least twenty years older than her, with dark hair going grey at the temples. He had a neat moustache and beard and dark eyes that contained no warmth.

Vivian approached him warily. "Husband. This is Aramis. He has agreed to help us."

"Has he?" George sneered. "Then let us hear what he has to say."

Aramis was pushed forward. "I have information that will allow you to enter the Palace unseen."

"Why would a Musketeer help us?" George asked, gesturing to two of the men.

Aramis narrowed his eyes and stood his ground. "I'm no Musketeer, as you know very well." The men approached and flanked him on either side, grabbing his arms. He swallowed down his panic, wondering what had changed.

"I'm listening," George said. "And, if I don't like what I hear you're a dead man. Start talking."

"There is a rear entrance to the Palace that leads to a flight of stairs down to the cellars. If you follow the hallway past the storerooms you come to more stairs that go to the kitchen. That entrance isn't guarded because you have to make your way unseen past two checkpoints to reach it. I can lead you safely through the grounds. Once inside the Palace you only have to act as if you belong there and no-one will challenge you. Hundreds of people go in and out every day. The guards can't recognize everyone and they pay little attention to the servants."

"What of the Queen?" George asked, his eyes glittering with malice. "Tell me where she is at her most vulnerable."

"In her chambers but you'll never reach her there. Each afternoon she goes to her private chapel to pray. She is accompanied by two of her ladies but the guards stay outside. There is another entrance to the chapel; the one used by the priest." Aramis felt sick as he described the way that the conspirators could gain access to the Queen. Even though he knew that all entrances were now being watched he still felt as if he was betraying her trust.

"Tell us of the route through the grounds."

"No. If I do that I'm no longer of any use to you and, forgive me, but I have no reason to trust you."

"You are a wise man. Bind him." George instructed.

Aramis struggled against the hold on his arms as they were pulled behind his back. A loop of rope circled his wrists and tightened. "What are you going to do?" he asked breathlessly.

"Ask the questions again and see if you give the same answers," George replied equably. "Only this time I plan to inflict pain to ensure that you are telling me the truth."

Vivian's shrill protest mingled with her husband's malevolent laugh and the sound of the door being kicked open. Aramis didn't have time to process that development before he found himself helpless in the middle of a war zone.

Tbc


End file.
